


Asylum Calling

by yashkonu



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-25 15:59:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4967212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yashkonu/pseuds/yashkonu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in an AU where the Grimm never existed. The world is much changed for their absence, much to humanity's gain, and theirs alone. Weary of their treatment, the faunus population of Remnant band together to form an independent nation: Asylum.</p><p>Far to the northwest, a young faunus woman begins a long, long journey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Though I May Make Mistakes

**Author's Note:**

> For those interested, a more complete explanation of the AU (complete with maps) is on my tumblr, under the tag 'asylum'

_Rain like freezing razors, sucking the life from her bones_

_Violent churning, tossed on a paper-thin lifeline over endless murky dark_

_Weathered hands, slick with frigid water yet still warm against her face_

_Her mother's lips were moving; she was smiling past the fear in her eyes_

 

Weiss flinched at the first sip of still-steaming coffee. Try as she might, she could never quite acclimate to the sharp taste of drinking it black. A generous dollop of cream and two sugars brought things back into acceptable bounds, and she settled onto a plush couch with her scroll. The headlines were the same as they always were these days; networks run by the state or the SDC foretelling the downfall of Atlas now that the faunus had gotten their way, while independent networks emphasized how the other nations of Remnant were acclimating to their new neighbor, Asylum. Weiss felt the name was a bit melodramatic.

For her part, Weiss held that declaring war on an entire species had been foolhardy from the outset. Her personal views of the faunus aside, it was simply an impractical and ultimately costly move. Now Vale and Mistral were establishing trade agreements with the young nation, while Atlas was left scraping up the remains of its unmanned infantry and harassing what few faunus remained within its borders. Honestly; you didn't have to _like_ the creatures to see the hubris in picking a fight with _all of them at once_.

The past few weeks had been a whirlwind around the Schnee Dust Company. Her father's incessant railing against the state's decision to enter peace talks with Asylum was expected, but no less aggravating for it. Following one particularly abrasive evening, Weiss had simply packed her things and left without a word for her family's vacation home on the western continent. The further from SDC headquarters, the better.

She was drawn from her rumination by the soft crunch of tires on snow and the chugging of an unsteady engine. Her brow furrowed as she rose, drawing her bathrobe a bit tighter. She had half-expected her father, or perhaps Winter, to come after her when she left, but neither would be likely to arrive in anything less than a personal airship. Even if they had merely sent some lackey to retrieve her, none in the employ of the Schnee Dust Company would arrive in a vehicle which sounded quite so… _worn_.

Weiss moved to the heavy exterior door of her home and eased it open slightly, her grip tight on the ornamented handle. An ancient-looking van was idling -- well, sputtering -- most of the way up her driveway. From the doorway Weiss’s view of its interior was minimal, blocked by the poor angle and the harsh glare of morning sunlight off the windshield. Idling finally became too much for the battered vehicle to manage, and it choked fitfully to silence. Weiss tensed, ducked back inside to retrieve Myrtenaster from where it lay with her luggage. Her father had insisted she learn _some_ form of self-defense, and she had chosen swordsmanship. Not as practical as a simple firearm, perhaps, but she had bodyguards for that, if the situation mandated it. She found guns distasteful, all artless violence and crude efficiency; Occam's razor taken all too enthusiastically to the art of combat.

Donning a pair of boots, she slipped out the door, silent as possible given the inches of snow coating the ground. A heavy storm had swept in from the north only a day ago, and left a fresh blanket of powder in its wake. She approached the silent vehicle trepidatiously, flinching at every _ping_ from the cooling engine and peering up at the windshield as she crossed to the driver’s side. Still no sign of any occupants. When she finally rounded the van, Weiss’s breath caught in her throat. From front to back, a wide swath of the driver’s side of the van was riddled with bullet holes. The back tire was a shredded mess, barely clinging to the wheel, and a portion of the rear bumper seemed to be missing entirely, the metal around it scorched and twisted. Her grip on Myrtenaster tightened, despite the biting cold.

She took a hesitant step towards the door of the van, only to jump back when it clicked open of its own accord. Weiss steeled herself as best she could, fighting to keep her tone level, if not quite commanding.

“Is… Who goes there?”

She jumped again at the muffled _thump_ of a body dropping limply from the driver’s seat into the blanket of snow. Driven by muscle memory, she fell into a defensive posture, blade at the ready. All for naught, it seemed, because whoever her mysterious visitor was, they had yet to budge in the slightest.

Weiss took a few unsteady steps closer, enough to swing the van’s door shut. Lying facedown in the snow before her was what appeared to be a girl about her age, though likely several inches taller.

“H-hello?”

No reply. She moved closer still, close enough to notice the faint rise and fall of the stranger’s back. _Very_ faint, she noticed. Still, it meant she was alive, somehow. She knelt beside the girl, reached out to turn her over, and froze. Perched atop the girl’s head were two small, black-furred, feline ears.

The _proper_ thing to do would have been to go back inside, call SDC security, and have them come collect the mangy heap. The heiress to the Schnee Dust Company did _not_ lend aid to faunus. Not _any_ faunus, and certainly not mysterious, apparently wounded faunus arriving at her home in a bullet-riddled rust-heap of a van.

If there was one thing Weiss hated, it was the thought that she would never be anything more than her title.

With a soft grunt, she rolled the girl over, then hissed in sympathy. Her clothes were riddled with tears and scratches, several dark stains blotched her coat, and a colorful bruise ran down the side of her neck, disappearing under her clothes. Her brow was knitted tight; somehow, she seemed to be clinging to consciousness despite her condition. With no small amount of effort, Weiss managed to lift her, mindful as she could be of the more obvious wounds, and bring her inside. She layered several towels on the bathroom floor and set the girl on them, then fetched a first-aid kit from beneath the sink. In truth, she had no idea what she was doing, but she what she _did_ know was what would happen if she were to call for help. Atlas was seldom kind to faunus these days.

She would just have to do what she could for the girl, and hope for the best. A pair of dark stains decorated her impromptu patient's left thigh and right shoulder; those would have to take priority. Weiss managed to ease off the stranger's coat without disturbing her overmuch, but was forced to cut her shirt and pants away with a pair of hastily located scissors, mumbling apologies.

Weiss hissed again at the mess beneath the clothes. Two ragged punctures in the meat of her right shoulder and one in her left thigh, plus a wide array of bruises and scrapes decorating her legs and torso. Still, there was some good news to be had. Each of the punctures had a matching exit wound, and she wasn't bleeding enough for them to have connected with any major arteries. Weiss might have considered her patient lucky, but a lucky person probably wouldn't be riddled with bullet wounds in the first place. She did her level best to clean the wounds and staunch the bleeding; from her lack of reaction to the disinfectant and gauze, it seemed the girl had finally lost consciousness entirely. It was probably for the best.

Once the worst of the wounds had been cleaned and bandaged, Weiss tracked down a robe -- a few sizes larger than her own; Winter's, most likely -- and wrapped it around her charge, gently as she could, before moving her to rest on a couch in the living room. Weiss settled into a chair opposite, and reality began to seep in.

 _There is a bleeding, unconscious, probably wanted faunus on my couch. On_ my _couch. I put her there, on purpose. What the hell am I doing?_

_Saving a life, probably._

Minutes passed in tense silence before a thought struck her, and she headed back out to the van, bundled against the cold. She would prefer to know as much as possible about her visitor before she woke, and the unfortunate vehicle might contain some clues as to her identity. The van was empty, save for a small duffel bag on the passenger seat. Weiss retrieved it, brought it inside -- a chill was already seeping through her clothes, the storm had left a bitterly cold stillness in its wake -- and spread its contents on the living room coffee table. A spare set of clothes, three twenty-lien bills and change, a battered scroll -- a years-old model, she noticed -- and a small, matte black bag. Within _that_ were simple toiletries -- a toothbrush, toothpaste, razor, et cetera -- and several bottles of pills with names Weiss didn't recognize; spironolactone and estradiol, among others. She assumed they were important, though, and tucked them back into the bag before zipping it shut.

 _Barely any money, only one change of clothes, a startling amount of medication, especially for a faunus around here... Who_ are _you?_

A soft groan caught her attention. On the couch across from her, the girl was beginning to wake. Judging by her expression, she wasn't too pleased about it. Her brow was knitted tight, but still she moved to sit up.

"I wouldn't. You're in no condition to be moving around."

The girl gasped, whipped her head to look at Weiss before hissing through clenched teeth and clutching her bandaged shoulder.

"Hey! I just bandaged that, I'll thank you to not to start it bleeding again." Weiss crossed her arms with a huff.

The girl seemed to be having trouble focusing her gaze, doubtless due to pain and fatigue, though it occurred to Weiss that nowhere in the girl’s things had she found even a scrap of food. That… might be contributing to the delirium. Weiss had never been much of a cook, but she managed a quick roast beef sandwich -- did faunus eat meat? The girl seemed to be part cat, or something, so it made _sense_ , but it wasn’t as though Weiss had ever bothered to learn the ins and outs of faunus nutrition -- and a glass of water, which she brought over to the couch.

“Eat up, it should help you recover. You’re… not in great shape.” As gently as she could, she eased her guest to sit upright. In her state, she might not survive the Heimlich maneuver.

She was brimming with questions, but for the time being Weiss kept them to herself, content to watch the girl eviscerate her sandwich, then drain the glass of water at a much more even pace. She allowed herself a moment to look the stranger over; she hadn't taken the time before, and besides, the girl was conscious now. Her figure was lithe and toned, wiry muscle under weathered skin like burnished bronze. Wavy black hair fell to frame her jaw, and drew Weiss's gaze to her eyes. They were striking, almost intimidating. Golden amber, vivid enough that they seemed to glow of their own accord, split by vertical slits of black. It was a moment before Weiss could bring herself to look away.

She was rather surprised the girl hadn’t recognized her, really. Weiss was something of a public figure in Atlas, given the SDC’s close ties to the government and position of considerable power internationally. Weiss chalked it up to disorientation, though she imagined she looked much different in casual clothing and with her hair loose across her back.

The girl leaned back against the cushions, then tensed suddenly. She cleared her throat roughly, then attempted to speak. “Thank you for... taking care of me, not many humans would have. H-have any… other faunus come through here? Faunus like me?”

Weiss shook her head. “No it was just you. Considering the state of your van I would imagine any others are…” She trailed off. The girl across from her looked… heartbroken. Weiss could see how hard she fought to hide it, but her trembling lips and brow sabotaged her efforts. She scrubbed at her eyes with her uninjured arm, breathed deeply to steady herself as best she could.

"I-I'm sorry, I should introduce myself. My name is Blake. Blake Belladonna." There was still a subtle tremor to her voice, a shine of unshed tears in her eyes.

"I'm Weiss. Weiss... ah..." She caught herself a moment too late. She could only hope the girl wouldn't manage to put two and two together.

The girl -- Blake, apparently -- studied her face for a moment, mouthed her name as Weiss wracked her brain for some plausible alternative. Before she could manage one, though, Blake tensed, eyes gone wide and fearful.

"I-I should go, I can't -- I sh-shouldn't be here." Before Weiss could speak she moved to stand, only to drop back into the couch with a sharp cry, clutching at her wounded thigh.

"I _just_ told you not to-" Weiss caught herself. It wouldn't help anything to frighten Blake even more. She took a deep breath, and spoke softly. "I don't know what happened to you, Blake, but you're very badly injured. If I were planning to turn you in, I would have done it _before_ I bandaged your wounds and made you a meal. I recognize that it might be... difficult to believe, but I do actually intend to help you."

Blake's shoulders relaxed by degrees, but her wary expression refused to budge, and she remained silent.

“I don’t expect you to take me at my word, but for the time being you’re stuck with me. That van you got here in isn’t going anywhere any time soon, and you’re… well… a mess. I brought your things inside, “ Weiss gestured at the newly re-packed bag on the table, “and there’s plenty of food here. If you decide you don’t want to tell me what’s going on, I can try to get you a ride to the nearest town without anyone finding out. If you decide you do… we can cross that bridge if we come to it.”

Blake only nodded, finally breaking eye contact to gaze thoughtfully at her hands, chewing her lip in thought. A thought seemed to strike her and she glanced up, looking sheepish. “I… don’t suppose my coat is around somewhere?”

Weiss nodded affirmatively and retrieved it from the bathroom. Blake dug around in the various pockets, looking increasingly worried as she did so, before withdrawing a plain-looking length of black ribbon from an interior pocket with a relieved sigh. She caught Weiss’s rising eyebrow, and turned bashful.

“It… It’s just… my mother gave it to me. Having it around is… comforting.” She ran the cloth through her fingers as she spoke, over and over again in the same pattern.

Weiss nodded, though she didn’t quite understand. All her father had ever given her was crushing responsibility and a scar across her eye, and she had never known her mother. Apparently satisfied, Blake wound the ribbon around her forearm, somehow folding it to hold itself in place.

"Thank you, Weiss. I... don't mean to seem ungrateful, this is just a lot to take in. Is it... is it alright if I take some time to think things over?"

Weiss nodded. "You'll need to stay here until you recover anyways. I've already done this much, letting you stay is hardly a huge jump."

She excused herself and retreated to her bedroom, allowing herself to drop heavily into the bed. Her thoughts raced as she stared blankly at the ceiling. How could Blake be so... _normal?_ She was a _faunus,_ they were supposed to be beasts, animalistic creatures who deserved to be treated as such. They weren't supposed to have _feelings_ and _prescriptions_ and _lives_ , weren't supposed to panic at the thought of losing a simple memento from a loved one.

They weren't supposed to be so damnably _real_.

_We can cross that bridge if we come to it._

Dust, what had she even _meant_ by that? She was _Weiss fucking Schnee;_ she had already gone far, far beyond what her station would permit, and she was freely offering to do _more?_ Even as she attempted to dissuade herself, though, she couldn't deny that there was an appeal to her secret defiance. Weiss was well aware that her life was lived on a rail; the vast majority of what she did was dictated by her father's whims, and the trajectory of her life had been chosen for her, long before she was even born. In the face of such a life, every act of defiance sweet as honey on her lips.

Weiss lay thinking for a long while, letting the thoughts run circles in her mind like dogs chasing their tails. Her stomach roused her, eventually. Her morning had been interrupted, to say the least, and she had never eaten breakfast. She went to the kitchen, checking on Blake as she passed the living room. The girl had fallen asleep, no longer pained unconsciousness but true, restful sleep. Weiss settled on a bowl of cereal, and sat across from the faunus girl once more. She watched the steady rise and fall of Blake's chest as she ate in contemplative silence.

Blake woke just as Weiss finished her half-hearted meal, and sat up stiffly, cautiously avoiding the use of her injured arm and leg. She ran a hand down her face, trying and failing to stifle a huge yawn.

"So... have you thought things over?" It was perhaps too early to ask, but Weiss was impatient. Schnees were unused to waiting for answers.

Blake ghosted a hand along the bandages wrapping her shoulder. They still had not bled through; possibly due to the wound healing, and possibly because Weiss hadn’t been entirely sure when to stop wrapping. “I… have, actually. I’m still not sure I actually… trust you, but… you’ve done a lot for me. The least I can do is explain myself.”

“That would be appreciated, yes.” Weiss smirked slightly. Yes, a bullet-riddled van and it’s bullet-riddled passenger turning up half-dead in the driveway of one of the richest people on Remnant might, just maybe, warrant an explanation.

Blake opened her mouth, then closed it. She seemed to be having trouble making eye contact. Was she… embarrassed? “I-I’m sorry, again, I… where to start…” Blake took a moment to collect her thoughts, then began again, more confidently. “Until… very recently, I lived on the island north of here, with my mother. She ran a faunus health clinic, since… well, you know.”

Weiss knew very well, given her father’s involvement in the matter. Since the beginning of the movement to found Asylum, faunus citizens of Atlas had been steadily losing rights. Three months ago it had been made all but impossible for faunus to receive healthcare, and what little they could find was made to be exorbitantly expensive.

“I’m surprised you stayed. Most faunus began migrating months before the founding, didn’t they?”

Blake nodded. “That’s true, but… someone has to stay, or people get left behind.” She spoke the words like a solemn prayer, and Weiss wondered how many times Blake had heard them from her mother’s lips. “Not everyone could just pick up and go, and we did our best to take care of them. Until earlier this week, anyway. Things had been getting… tense, between us and the police. Clinics like ours aren’t entirely legal; we can only operate safely as long as the law chooses to turn a blind eye. They… decided to stop doing that. More than a couple faunus in our area have been arrested lately, and… that’s the last we ever hear of them. We don’t know if they were transferred somewhere else without us knowing, or if…” Blake trailed off. She was twirling the ribbon through her fingers again.

“... I think I can imagine.” That wasn’t entirely true; she had considerable difficulty imagining the police being so cruel. They existed to serve and protect Atlesian citizens, and had always been quite courteous to her. Still, if Blake looked this distraught at the very idea of being arrested, then perhaps things were different for faunus.

Blake gave her a grateful look, and continued after a deep breath. “They came to our clinic a couple days ago. Way too many of them for just the two of us, I think they were hoping for a fight. We managed to slip out the back and get down to the docks, but they noticed us casting off and… there was the… storm…” Blake’s voice caught. There was a faraway look in her eyes, and Weiss could see her hands begin to tremble. If she had been at sea in that storm…

“Blake? You don’t need to tell me this part if it’s too hard, okay?”

After a moment’s dazed silence, Blake shook herself and nodded. “Th-thank you. At some point I hit my head, and when I woke up I was at the docks northwest of here. My… my mother was gone. I don’t know… a-anyway, the police were combing the docks, so I had to run. I found an unlocked van with the key in the glove compartment, but it took a few tries to start it and they saw me. You… pretty much know the rest.”

That kind of force for a runaway clinic assistant? It was like they were using her for target practice. “I… see. What do you plan to do now? The police will doubtless have a warrant out for your arrest, and we’re nowhere near the Vacuo border.”

A hint of steel entered Blake’s golden gaze, and Weiss suppressed a shiver. Those eyes were certainly… intriguing. “Get to Asylum. When we were leaving, I promised my mother… if we got separated on the way, we’d meet again there. I… I have to get there. I _have_ to.”

“I figured that much, but _how?_ Hundreds of miles of Atlas territory aren’t going to just let you through, especially if there’s a warrant out for your… arrest.” She punctuated the last word with a pointed glance at Blake’s wounded leg.

“A family friend runs a ferry between the coast south of here and the island below that. That’s Vacuo territory; if I can get there it’ll be… easier. Things aren’t much better in Vacuo, but at least they don’t have a warrant out on me.”

Weiss _hmm_ ed in understanding. A valid plan, if risky. All it would take was one glance from an observant officer and… “Well, it sounds like you have something of a plan worked out. You’re welcome to stay here a few days to recover, and if I receive word that anyone from my father’s company is to be visiting, you’ll be the first to know.” Weiss stood, headed back to her room, when a hand caught her wrist.

“Weiss… thank you.” Blake held her gaze, her expression earnest and grateful. “What you’ve done, what you’re doing… you’ve saved my life.” She gave Weiss’s wrist a gentle squeeze, and let her hand slip away. “I hope you know that.”

Warmth leapt to Weiss’s cheeks and she stammered, suddenly off balance. “Y-yes, well… I-I couldn’t just leave you to _die._ ”

Blake just smiled softly, and Weiss thought her heart might stop. She excused herself hastily, and took a long shower.

 

* * *

 

The next day Blake could stand. Unsteadily, yes, but enough to limp around the house when the need arose. As it happened, Blake was a much better chef than Weiss, and did her best to cook for them both, despite her injuries. She insisted it was only fair, given all Weiss had done for her.

Weiss wondered why she was so touched by the offer; it wasn’t as though she had never eaten a meal prepared by someone else before.

Another two days passed in this fashion, with Blake’s limp easing by degrees and her wariness steadily fading. As it did, she began to open up to Weiss somewhat. She explained what her life had been like, traveling often to avoid suspicion from law enforcement, constantly scraping bottom for supplies -- but never turning anyone away, no matter the hour, no matter the patient, no matter the cost to themselves. Weiss seldom spoke during her talks with Blake, and then only to ask guiding questions. It seemed there was much about life as an Atlesian faunus that had been kept from her.

She asked about Blake’s prescriptions, but dropped the subject when an edge of panic entered her expression. Some things would simply have to wait, if they were discussed at all.

On the evening of Blake’s fourth day with her, as they sat together eating the salads Blake had prepared, Weiss’s scroll chimed. Her eyes scanned the message briefly, then she excused herself, walking stiffly to her room. Blake ate in confused solitude for some time before she returned, dropping a loaded duffel bag to the floor with a soft _thump_.

Blake’s brow furrowed. “Weiss? What’s-”

“My father will be here tomorrow morning. We need to be as far away as possible by then.”

Blake stiffened. “I… I don’t have a car, how am I going to get away before-” She paused. “Wait, ‘we’? Weiss, you don’t mean-”

“I want to go with you.” Heat crept to Weiss’s face, she imagined her cheeks were all but scarlet. “I-I mean… if you’ll have me. I don’t mean to insist, but y-your chances would likely be much better if-”

“Weiss…” Blake looked… concerned. Deeply so. “If you do this… you’re throwing away your entire life. I don’t expect your father will be forgiving of something like this. I… I can’t ask you to do that for me, you’ve risked enough as it is.”

“You’re not asking, Blake. I’m offering. And… the more I talk to you, the more I’m okay with throwing away this life. It… it’s not mine, not really.” Steel entered her gaze, turned it glacial. “It’s my father’s, and I think I’m done playing along. So, if you’ll have me…”

Blake searched her face for a moment, before huffing out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She shook her head with a rueful grin. “I doubt I’d have much luck convincing you otherwise if I wanted to. Together, then?”

Weiss nodded sharply. “Together, to Asylum.”


	2. Though I Know I Can Hate

Endless acres of silent forest, black as pitch in the cloud-cloaked night, passed in silence broken only by the subtle whisper of tires on asphalt. In the deeper, darker parts of the night, distance stopped being distance and time ceased to be salient. There was only the open road, without beginning or end.

Blake shook herself to ward off the encroaching road hypnosis. It was easy to slip into in the luxurious car they had 'borrowed' from the Weiss's home; the dust-powered engine was whisper-quiet, and Blake's hand kept twitching for a gearshift that wasn't there. She glanced across to the passenger seat, where possibly the wealthiest woman in the world was sleeping soundly. Blake wondered, idly, if it were possible any longer for her to be _more_ out of her depth. Probably not, honestly.

Blake fidgeted slightly in the suit Weiss had dug up from Winter's long-untouched wardrobe. It and the accompanying slacks were roughly her size, thankfully, but Blake was direly unused to anything resembling formal dress. Besides, it seemed Weiss's elder sister was rather differently-proportioned than Blake was. She recalled the odd look that had crept into Weiss's eyes at the mention of her sister, some murky blend of worry and uncertainty. She hadn't pressed the issue.

In the end they had opted to travel at night; with Weiss being Weiss and Blake being targeted for arrest, it was probably wise for them to avoid attention as much as possible. Not that there was much to avoid in this part of Atlas. The Schnee family had chosen it for their vacation home deliberately. Pines upon pines upon pines soared past as they drove, the travel given substance only by the very occasional roadside inn or restaurant.

It was as they passed one such landmark that the foreign flash of headlights appeared in the rear view mirror, turning out from behind a darkened cafe. Blake eyed the other vehicle for a moment, squinting suspiciously against the glare until her sensitive eyes caught the silhouette of a row of lights atop it.

_Police_.

She forced her eyes to the road ahead. They had a cover for the possibility that they would be noticed, but it was paper-thin at best. If they had an ounce of luck between them, the officer would simply be heading home after a long night, not bother to run their plates, and not get too curious about what a car directly owned by the Schnee family was doing in the wilderness at three in the morning.

Blake wondered, as red and blue began to flash behind her, if they were _both_ this unlucky or if it was just her, and her immense bad fortune simply overrode whatever good luck Weiss might have. She pulled the car over, slowed to a halt as smoothly as possible, and resolved to buy a good luck charm or ten as soon as possible.

Shortly thereafter a knuckle rapped against the heavily tinted window, and Blake lowered it, pinning her ears flat against her hair in an attempt to hide them. Thankfully the cop had decided to leave his flashlight out of their conversation; in the low light Blake's eyes might not give her away as faunus, but the directed beam of a flashlight would have turned her pupils to razor slits.

Thinking quickly, Blake took the initiative and spoke first, in as authoritative a tone as she could manage. If their bluff was to work, everything relied on her ability to sell it.

"I imagine there must be an _extremely_ good reason for this."

The officer paused for a moment, taken aback. He must have been expecting to find a thief or carjacker, rather than a brazen challenge of his authority. Good. The more she could keep him off-balance and on the defensive, the better. His eyes flicked to the heiress in the side seat. Whether she was still asleep or merely acting, even Blake couldn't tell. She met his gaze as coolly as she could, gripping the wheel to mask the tremble in her hands.

"I... apologize for the inconvenience, but you were exceeding the speed limit by about 15 miles per hour." Fuck. "I'll need to see your license and regi-"

"Miss Schnee has asked that I escort her to Brandtheil Plaza in Erstworth from the Schnee family home northeast of here. In order to do so before the plaza opens, I must travel this speed or higher. Unless you would care to suggest another route?"

"I-Well, regardless of your reason, the speed limit is the speed limit. I'll need you to-"

"-Wake Miss Schnee? That can be arranged, if you wish." An ounce of luck between them...

Blake couldn't quite read his face in the glare of the patrol car's headlights, but she watched his eyes dart back and forth between the probably-slumbering heiress, her impassive probably-chauffeur, and his own vehicle.

_Just walk away. It's late, you're tired, and all you have to do to sweep this aaaaall under the rug is walk. Away._

"... I'll let you off with a warning this once, but try to plan for these things in advance in the future. Other officers might not be so lenient. Have a safe night."

_Maybe just the one ounce._

 

* * *

 

By the time Blake pulled into the docks, frazzled and fatigued, dawn had dyed the ocean before her a lustrous, dappled amber. She eased the luxury sedan to a stop before a building not nearly as luxurious. A wind-weathered sign above the door read, in faded and flaking paint, _Scarlatina Crossings._ Blake smiled wearily at the sight; it had been a long, long time since she had seen it. She had helped paint it, in fact, along with a somewhat older faunus girl named Velvet.

Beside her, the soft creak of shifting leather heralded Weiss's return to wakefulness.

"Good morning."

"Mnfgh."

Blake nodded in solemn agreement.

"Did anything happen while I was out?"

_We got pulled over because I was speeding and I bluffed my way out of getting us both caught._

"Nothing interesting. A lot of empty highway, mostly."

Standing was instant relief. Blake rubbed at the bags beneath her eyes and the stiffness in her limbs, working out the tension that had built up over hours behind the wheel. Once Weiss had done the same, they entered the diminutive shop, announced by the soft chime of a bell above the door. A pair of tawny ears perked at the sound, and Blake smiled at the sight. Seeing her safe was a relief; what Velvet did was only marginally more legal than the clinic Blake's mother had operated.

Velvet beamed in return, rounding the shop's counter to wrap her in a tight embrace. "Blake! I was wondering when you'd turn up, you had me worried sick!"

"Good to see you too, Velvet." Blake squeezed her a bit tighter, speaking in a soft murmur.

Weiss took a moment to size her up. Ears aside, her most immediately noticeable feature was the wide band of ragged scar tissue that cut across her left eye, pale against the dark olive skin. The eye beneath it was cloudy, distinct from the deep chocolate hue of her right side. Her figure was indistinct, concealed as it was by her baggy coat and loose jeans. There was an accent to her voice Weiss couldn't quite place, some cocktail of southern Mistral and western Vacuo. After a moment she turned to regard Weiss, and flinched away as if burned.

"B-Blake, what's...? W-w-why is-"

"Easy, Velvs, she's okay. It's... a bit of a story though. Does that old coffee maker still work? I could _really_ use the pick-me-up."

 

* * *

 

"Shit, Blake, that's... more than just a _bit_ of a story."

Blake nodded with a rueful grin into her fourth cup of steaming ambrosia. They were seated in the shop's back room -- which, judging by the worn bed and basic kitchen, also served as Velvet's home -- in a trio of chairs. Blake had quietly insisted that Weiss sit on Velvet's right side.

"I wish I had better news for you, but I haven't seen your mum since the last time you visited together. I'm sorry, Blake."

Blake shook her head. "It's alright, I'm sure she just... took a different route, or something. We'll meet up when I get to Asylum."

After a short nod, Velvet turned to address Weiss, looking her up and down a bit warily. There was a lengthy silence before she spoke, with an edge of steel like carefully sheathed claws in her voice. "Thank you for taking care of Blake. She's a dear friend of mine, and there's not much I wouldn't do to keep her safe. Understand?"

Weiss nodded curtly. Words would likely not be welcome.

"Glad to hear it. Anyhow, we'd best get moving before things get any livelier around here. _Especially_ now we've got a celebrity joining us. I'll fetch your things from the car; I'd rather not have either of you on the street."

When the door jingled shut behind her, Weiss sat back in her chair with a sigh. "I get the impression that she doesn't quite like me."

"You won't find many faunus who do, Weiss. Your family hasn't been kind to us."

Weiss nodded. She was far from oblivious to the ways the SDC had influenced legislation in Atlas, though she had thought little of it until now. The faunus had always been some unimportant _other_ , just a source of cheap labor without the burden of unions or civil rights. Putting a face to the word was beginning to shift her point of view, especially when those faces tended to flinch away or panic at her mere presence.

"I noticed you looking at her scar."

"I-I don't know what you're talking about, I was only-"

"It's fine; she leaves it uncovered for a reason. She was only twelve when it happened. Just some kid, walking around the docks with her friend," Blake gestured to herself, "when a half-drunk sailor decided to take the business end of a smashed beer bottle to her face. Called her vermin, kicked me in the ribs, and walked off." Her eyes flicked up from the empty mug to meet Weiss's horrified gaze. "Big blue snowflake on the back of his uniform. When the police showed up they asked what we did to provoke him."

"Oh, _dust_ , Blake..."

"She's blind in that eye now; that's why she wanted you to sit on her right side. We aren't born scared, Weiss. Every faunus has a story or two like that."

The door chimed again, and Velvet dashed into the room with their things under an arm and panic on her face.

"We need to move _now._ "

Blake searched her face, tension furrowing her brow. "Velvet, what's going on?"

" _What's going on_ is there's a damned SWAT van down the street and it's coming our way! We've got maybe five minutes before we're staring down shotgun barrels."

Blake shot to her feet, eyes wide. "There's no way they know Weiss is here; are they just going after everyone I know?"

"I think the whys can wait until we've made ourselves scarce, don't you? Velvet, what do we need to do to get out of here?"

Rattled as she was, Velvet still managed to respond without missing a beat. "I've got the ship kitted up already, we just need to hop aboard and go."

“No time like the present, then.” Weiss took Blake’s hand, tugging gently towards the door. Blake looked terrified; something about the combination of docks and police wasn’t bringing back good memories. “Blake, we need to go, okay?”

She shook herself, as though the motion could dislodge the harsh memory. “A-alright. The sooner the better.”

They rushed from Velvet’s home, glancing nervously down the road for any sign of the police. Weiss eventually caught sight of the ominous black van in the distance, headed their way with sirens blaring. They were lucky to have Velvet’s ears on their side; she had likely noticed the noise long before any of them could have spotted the approaching danger.

Velvet set about casting off the lines holding them to the dock while Blake and Weiss clambered onto the boat, then leapt aboard herself, starting the boat with a silent prayer. It churned to life without a hitch, thankfully, and Velvet eased them away from the docks hurriedly, opening the throttle wide just as the van skidded to a halt before the docks. Officers in tactical gear leapt from the back, leveling weapons at the rapidly distancing boat until one shouted something, indistinct over the roar of the tide and the motor but bearing a striking resemblance to _“Weiss Schnee.”_ Every weapon was lowered, instantly.

Weiss turned to Blake, and their eyes met.

_They know._

 

* * *

 

Words were slow to come after the rush to escape. Once the adrenaline drained, an uneasy, ineffectual stillness took its place. The potent cocktail of still-healing wounds, a long night at the wheel, and the rocking motion of the calm sea speeding by overpowered Blake’s attempted caffeination, and soon she was fast asleep on a bench seat toward the back of the boat.

Without her, Weiss was left in Velvet's company. From their limited time together, all Weiss had been able to figure out about her was that there was more there than met the eye. She was all alternating layers; a first impression of kindness that concealed an edge of razor steel beneath it, but an edge was born from undying devotion to her loved ones.

_Why is it,_ she thought, eyes tracing the pale scars on Velvet's calloused knuckles, _that every time I meet a faunus I find they’re more… well,_ human _than any human I know?_

Her scroll chimed, startling her and drawing Velvet's attention. Her eyes scanned the on-screen message, an emergency alert regarding a dangerous criminal loose in her area.

“Velvet… does Blake have a younger brother? I just got an emergency alert about someone named Da-”

“Do _not_ say that name, Schnee.” She spat Weiss's surname like venom on her tongue.

“I… what? What are you talking about?”

Velvet glanced at Blake’s sleeping form, just long enough to confirm that she was truly asleep. “Look, why are you doing this? Why is Weiss _fucking_ Schnee gallivanting around Remnant with a runaway faunus?”

“That’s because-” Because…? Because she felt obligated to help Blake? Because she was sick of being a pawn and a bargaining chip in her father’s games? Because she wanted to feel like she was actually _doing_ something with her life?

“Because, Weiss?”

“I… thought of several reasons, but all of them are pretty much about me, doing what I want, so… because I’m selfish, I suppose. And maybe a bit of a bitch.”

Velvet barked a short, harsh laugh. “Well, at least you didn’t lie.” She turned thoughtful for a moment, leveling a thousand-yard stare at the distant horizon. “Weiss… I don’t think you really know what you’ve got yourself into. What you’ve got _us_ into. Your father’s going to come after us, and when he does I don’t expect he’ll be interested in taking prisoners. He’ll kill me, and Blake, and maybe you too, if you try to protect us.”

_“If?_ I'm not selling either of you out to save myself.”

“Tell me that again when you're staring down the barrel of an SDC-brand magnum and I might just believe you.” She turned to fix Weiss with an accusatory glare, colder than the ocean wind. “You can just barely see the round in the chamber, if you look hard enough. They print that snowflake logo on the tip of every one.”

Weiss swallowed hard. She didn't have to ask to know that Velvet was speaking from experience.

“We’re in danger, Weiss. _Real_ danger. For some reason, Blake seems to trust you already. I don't understand it, but…” she sighed heavily, though the barest hint of a grin was beginning to form on her features. “But Blake’s got a good heart, and good instincts. If she trusts you, then maybe I’ll play along.”

The words lit a fire in Weiss, a familiar drive to prove herself worthy of that trust. She had felt it before, while reading a handwritten farewell letter penned by her older sister. Something in Velvet was reminiscent of Winter, just enough to remind Weiss of a heartache long ignored.

“Thank you, Velvet. I… I’ll try to earn it.”

“Like I said, when the chips are down we’ll know for sure.” She lapsed into silence, but the look on Velvet's face spoke volumes.

“Velvet? Is there something else you want to say?”

“There’s a lot I’d _like_ to say. Question is what I _should_.” She looked back at Blake once more, her look softening. “Fuck it, it’s bound to come up sooner or later and she’s told me she trusts my judgement on this stuff. Blake’s trans, Weiss.”

Weiss was silent for a long moment before her expression shifted from seriousness to an odd smile. Velvet quirked an eyebrow.

“And just _what_ is so funny?”

“No, no, it’s just,” she couldn’t help but chuckle lightly, perhaps a bit lighter than the situation called for, “you faunus don’t do _anything_ the easy way, do you?”

“Yeah, well,” her tone was somber, but she grinned back at Weiss, a bit sadly. “ _That_ one was all Blake. She’s been through so much, I just… I can hardly imagine. I just try to make things easier on her, when I can.”

Weiss nodded. She had had someone who cared for her like that, once.

“So… you’re okay with it? Be honest; I’m not going to let anything I could have prevented hurt her.”

“I’m okay with it, I swear. She won't have any trouble from me. My father wouldn’t approve, but I am _not_ my father.”

Velvet grinned at that. “Well, good. Keep not being your father and we might get along famously.”

 

* * *

 

The remainder of the voyage passed peacefully, and they arrived at the shores of Vacuo without incident. Once Blake was roused -- she had slept like a brick the entire trip -- and their things were gathered, they set out. The Vacuo port authority nearly gave them trouble, but thanks to Weiss’s mastery of misdirection, feigning authority, and outright lying they managed to escape without incident. Blake referred to it as “Schneeing” the problem. Weiss wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not.

They boarded a highway bus bound for the island’s largest city, situated at its center, and passed the time discussing their plans to reach Asylum in hushed tones. They would take an airship from the city to Vacuo’s mainland, and from there either rent or purchase a car to cut east across the continent to Asylum. Velvet suggested that they head south instead and make for the border of Vale, which would make travel easier and put much-needed distance between them and the SDC, but Blake was anxious to reach Asylum and begin the search for her mother as quickly as possible.

It was late afternoon when they arrived in the city, not quite a bustling metropolis but certainly the island’s hub. They set about making preparations while the city was yet awake; beginning with a trip to a bank and a very large withdrawal from Weiss’s personal accounts. Fortunately, the news of her “kidnapping” didn’t seem to have reached Vacuo. No doubt her father was keeping the matter under wraps in hopes of avoiding a public incident.

It was Blake who first suggested the idea of a disguise to Weiss, though she suspected Velvet may have planted the idea.

“You want me to _what?”_

“It’s just an idea! You don’t _have_ to do anything, it’s just…” Blake gave Velvet a helpless look.

“You… are pretty recognizable, Weiss. Things will probably go a lot smoother if you don’t get noticed.”

“I know _that_ , it’s just…” Did it have to be her hair? She was being petulant, she knew; running from country to country with a multi-billion-dollar corporation slash private army on their tails -- so to speak -- was hardly the time to be worrying about hairstyle choices. All the same, she took great pride in her hair. Cutting and dyeing it just seemed so… _drastic._

“It’ll be alright, Weiss. Just… think of it as another rebellion, if that helps. I’m sure your father would _hate_ for you to cut your hair to anything other than company standards.” Blake smirked with the words, and she was right. Her father would be _livid_ if she opted for a less on-brand style. That thought made the idea of a change much easier to stomach.

After much deliberation, she settled on a layered pixie cut in raven black, with subtle blonde highlights (Velvet's suggestion). Another few stops procured a less, well, _Schnee-ish_ wardrobe for her and a number of spare outfits for Velvet, who hadn't had time to pack before their flight from Atlas.

Weiss changed into a less opulent ensemble; a sturdy leather jacket over a simple v-neck and jeans. She looked herself over in the changing room mirror, meeting her own searching eyes.

She hardly recognized herself. She wasn't sure how to feel about that. Blake assured her it was a good look for her, though, and Velvet seemed to quietly agree.

It was twilight when they finished their errands and set out to find a hotel for the night. Weiss found somewhere suitable on her scroll; low-profile enough to avoid anyone who might recognize her, but nice enough that security and cleanliness wouldn't be an issue.

As they walked the streets, watching the streetlights flicker to life and weaving through fellow pedestrians, Blake was suddenly knocked roughly off balance, nearly enough to topple her.

“Ah, I’m sorr-”

“Watch where you're going, you vermin fuck,” growled a rough voice.

Weiss’s blood shot to boiling in an instant. _“Excuse me?”_

The man stopped, turned to regard the group disinterestedly, then scoffed. “You should keep your animals on a leash, lady.”

She took a step forward, bristling with righteous indignation, until a firm hand on her shoulder drew her to look back. Velvet was holding her back, gentle but firm, with a sorrowful look in her eyes.

“It’s not worth it, Weiss. Come on, let’s just… let’s just get to the hotel.”

It was as though a veil had been lifted. Suddenly she noticed _everything._ Every dubious or derisive glance leveled at Blake and Velvet, every jostling shoulder that somehow never connected with her, every casual slur -- _cat vermin animal beast bitch_ \-- mumbled just loud enough to hear. She saw the hollow look in Blake’s eyes when a group of men passing by whistled and jeered at her, called her _kitten_ , asked if she wanted to _play_. Velvet looped an arm through hers and pulled her close, whispered into her ear too softly for Weiss to understand. She noticed the way the concierge at the hotel looked past her at her companions, suspicious and wary. By the time they reached their room the constancy of it all had worn her nerves raw.

Once they were inside she dropped heavily to lay on the nearest bed while Velvet set about organizing their purchases from the day out. After a moment, Blake came to sit beside her.

“Weiss? You… okay?”

She scoffed, quietly. “Am _I_ okay?” She was quiet for a long moment, chewing her lip hard. “Is it… always like that? For faunus, I mean. Is it like that everywhere?”

“Not… everywhere, no. From what I hear, Vale and Mistral are a lot better. Not perfect, but… better. Atlas and Vacuo, though… yeah. It’s pretty much always like that.”

“How do you _survive?_ I couldn’t- I can’t imagine-” She stopped abruptly, turning to Blake with a look of dawning horror. “I was like that. Even without the… business… _I_ was like that. You all go through so much _shit_ and I was just… more of it. I… I’m so sorry, Blake.”

“Hey, you’ve been pretty good to me personally.” She ran a hand through Weiss’s freshly cropped hair, and Weiss suppressed a shiver. “I won’t tell you the things you did before don’t matter, because… they do. Mistakes don’t just go away once you stop making them. Still… you’re different now, right?”

Weiss nodded hastily.

“Then that matters more. Who you _are_ is more important than who you _were_.”

“We’ll get there, Blake. I promise. We’ll get there, and things will be different. _Better_.”

Blake lay beside her on the bed and met her eyes with a smile. “You know what? I think I believe you.”


End file.
